Wednesday, May 8, 2013

And Then It Was Two

At first, it was one—yet a task seemingly as epic as that
one revolution racing through the bleak emptiness of space to encircle the sun. Day by
day, stretching to reach that goal. One day: one post.

Simple. Three hundred sixty five times simple.

It started in May. The month for remembering mothers. I
started out with those good intentions. I wanted to remember my mother, growing
up in a family moving from city to city seeking employment wherever, whenever,
just so the kids could be fed—but not in
a soup line!—during those destitute years of the Great Depression. Coming
of age in an amalgamation of the sounds of the Big Band era and the sights of
pre-World War II tensions. A woman who followed her dream and left her Midwest hometown
for an acting career before those bright lights of New York City.

I wanted, too, to remember my maternal grandmother—she of
the old southern heritage, who could tell of roots reaching beyond the advent
of statehood in Florida, before the genesis of
nationhood in the Carolinas and even Virginia.
I knew compiling documentation of her family’s history would yield me entrance
into the historic company of lineage societies, but I wanted to take this
journey to provide documentation for my own edification, also.

Then, too, there were the mothers whose stories lacked
verification—some shrouded in outright mystery. I wanted to pursue my paternal grandmother’s stories—where she came from and who she left behind. Her heritage—as
far as I know to this point—is a short trail from the mid 1950s back to a brick
wall standing stubbornly immovable only sixty, maybe seventy, years prior.

From there, the trail led—seemingly—everywhere. There were
the stories of my husband’s indomitable grandmother—granddaughter, herself, of
an Irish immigrant grandmother with a mystery of her own to pursue. From mother
to daughter to sons, their wives, their cousins, their distant kin—one story at
a time, the strands of family wove themselves together. Stretching the
connection at times, and at other times, nearly disappearing into the warp and
woof of their surroundings, the stories kept coming, day after day.

And then, as incredible as it might have seemed at the
beginning, it wasn’t one anymore.

You've really uncovered a diverse lot of wonderful "moms" in your "journey" through the family tree... From Southern Belle to Chicago Urbane, to California Brash and the entire collection has been so pleasant to get to "know" - even with the ones that haven't much "story," you've found enough thread to weave enough of their life tale to keep them living in memory - which is really a special Mother's Day gift that you give them all.

Yes, they are all a diverse lot of moms--quite a collection of memories. Sometimes I wonder why some of them saved the things they saved...and sometimes I wish some of them saved something--anything at all--so I could have it to pass along. I guess that is part of what goes into the tantalizing aspect of The Search.

A splendid paean to Mother's Day, on behalf of your mother, your grandmothers, and the grandmothers in your husband's line. Strong women, all, and a delight to read about. Each one strong and persistent in a different way.

Your strength and persistence echo theirs. So you extend them. I don't know how you achieve one blog a day for a year, and I'm only just now realizing your accomplishment, because I haven't been "counting" day by day. But that's truly remarkable.

That is such a powerful thought, Mariann: that through the stories we tell about the women in our past, we extend them. We bring them along into our future; along with us, we let them shape that future.

Happy Mother's Day to you, too, Mariann. I truly appreciate all your encouragement!

Happy blogiversary, Jacqi! What a remarkable legacy you're weaving with your daily posts. And what a wonderful tribute to the mothers in your line, and in all of our lives. Keep up the good work! I look forward to reading more as your third year unfolds!

Good point, Shelley: the mothers in all of our lives. If genealogy math means the number of ancestors doubles for each succeeding generation we reach as we work our way back in time, then that's a lot of mothers to talk about!

About Me

It is my contention that, after a lifetime, one of the greatest needs people have is to be remembered. They want to know: have I made a difference?
I write because I can't keep for myself the gifts others have entrusted to me. Through what I've already been given--though not forgetting those to whom I must pass this along--from family I receive my heritage; through family I leave a legacy. With family I weave a tapestry. These are my strands.